


I could really use a wish right now

by AlienTrash



Series: Welcome to nightvale oneshots [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: (same), Angst, Based on a fic I scrapped, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I’m just venting a bit, Loooots of Angst, M/M, Night vale citizens fight a major deity, because why not, carlos has a mental breakdown, lots of people die but it’s not graphic, plus its army
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 18:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18057557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlienTrash/pseuds/AlienTrash
Summary: (Based off a fic I scrapped a while back because I didn’t like how it was written)The citizens of nightvale were victorious, defeating the shadow god after losing so many to its ruthless shadow army. But for some, the aftermath was worse than the battle.





	I could really use a wish right now

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wrote a story that I’m currently rewriting that this is based off, but you don’t need to read that to understand what happens here. Just think nightvale vs vengeful god, I suppose.  
> Enjoy (:

It was all over. Carlos was slumped at his desk, shirt stained brown with old blood. Not his, the blood of the wounded he’d been helping in the battle. 

He wasn’t to fight- Cecil had been very firm about that (“I can’t lose you” “You won’t”) which was, in the end, relieving. The idea of killing scared him. He didn’t want to think about it. About what he could have done if it wasn’t so scared.

He took a sip of lukewarm coffee, pulling a face. He was used to late nights and bad coffee- Science afternoons often morphed into Science all-nighters and burnt fingers from arguing with the broken coffee machine. This was a new type of exhaustion, however. Even in the softest bed he wouldn’t have slept; his thoughts bouncing around his head at a million miles an hour. 

He was relieved, of course, but... traumatised wasn’t the right word, but it was close. He’d seen enough death in the last two days to last a lifetime. Or several. And he’d been so lucky to not be on the list of said dead.

************  
He’d watched an intern bleed out from a stab wound in his stomach. He didn’t cry or beg for help. He went down fighting, a bloodied kitchen knife in a shaking fist, cutting down shadow soldiers with, one could say, enthusiasm.

God, Carlos had been a coward (‘Yes love, I’ll stay behind. I’ll let people die for me and hold a cloth against their wounds, pretending to know what I’m doing’). It had been pathetic. He had been pathetic.

He couldn’t dwell on it, as at that moment there was a soft knock on the door.

It was Cecil. He was holding a scythe (a freaking bloodied scythe, with a huge blade and everything, are you hearing this?) and grinning like someone who just defeated a major deity really shouldn’t be grinning.

“Carlos!” He smiled wider, and it both warmed and broke Carlos’ heart. “You’ll never guess what happened!”

Okay, okay. Wallowing in self-pity could wait. He needed to get the scythe off his boyfriend before he took his own head off.

************  
It had been a month and Nightvale had moved on. Shops and houses were being rebuilt (some literally popping up in the middle of the night) and people stopped talking about the battle, settling into a state between acceptance and mourning.

Deaths in Nightvale were nothing uncommon, but never on this scale. And never so much blood.

Carlos had considered seeing a therapist, but the idea wasn’t promising (how was he meant to explain what happened without sounding insane?). He’d started dreading nightfall, knowing that he would spend hours staring at the ceiling, overthinking lives he could have saved. How he should have died, rather than those who did. Sometimes he would succumb to the overwhelming guilt in his gut and sob into his pillow until Cecil woke up to comfort him. 

All Carlos wanted to do was study science. Not this.

************  
It had been four months. Carlos had thought of leaving several times. At one point, after a particularly bad night, he’d packed his bags, face sticky with tears. He was fulling prepared to catch a flight to the opposite side of nowhere and live his life wandering from cheap hotel to cheap hotel until he heard Cecil clattering about in the kitchen.

More guilt. Guilt that stabbed at his heart like a thousand knives, making him double over, shaking with emotion. 

How could he have even thought about leaving the man he loved. How dare he! He was a coward, running at the first sign of a problem. His heart was pounding angrily in his ears and his vision turned to static. He could function anymore. It was too much.

He vaguely remembered warm arms around his middle, and cold water on his face, and soft kisses and endless apologies. He couldn’t tell who was apologising, but he had a feeling it was him.

And then it stopped.

************  
Carlos was standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around himself to keep out the cold, as stars blinked in the sky. Pink touched the horizon to the east and he knew he needed to be getting to bed. At his elbow stood his boyfriend, holding a cup of coffee (the good stuff, made with a kettle, but probable still lukewarm) and smiling at the sky.

“We should go to bed,” He sighed, eventually, tugging on Carlos’ arm.

“Probably,” Came the wistfull reply, “Or we could... not”

Cecil rubbed at the sleep in his eyes with a soft laugh, “I’ll make some more coffee then?” 

“Yeah..”

************  
In the morning they were exhausted, but the happiest they’d ever been.

And wasn’t it just neat.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments are appreciated! Have a nice day!


End file.
